Every Man Alone Is Sincere. At The

All Diseases Run Into One, Old Age.

You Cannot Give Anything To A Magnanimous Person. After You Have Served Him, He At Once Puts You In Debt By His Magnanimity.

Spirit, That Made Those Heroes Dare To Die, And Leave Their Children Free, Bid Time And Nature Gently Spare The Shaft We Raise To Them And Thee.

A Man Is The Facade Of A Temple Wherein All Wisdom And All Good Abide.

By The Rude Bridge That Arched The Flood, Their Flag To April's Breeze Unfurled, Here Once The Embattled Farmers Stood, And Fired The Shot Heard Round The World. The Foe Long Since In Silence Slept; Alike The Conqueror Silent Sleeps; And Time The Ruined Bridge Has Swept Down The Dark Stream Which Seaward Creeps. On This Green Bank, By This Soft Stream, We Set To-day A Votive Stone; That Memory May Their Deed Redeem, When, Like Our Sires, Our Sons Are Gone.